


Sweet Dreams

by CalsLaundry



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: 1920's party, Fingering, Misgendering, demon! Alastor, human! Alastor, ouija board antics, trans experience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:13:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22229221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalsLaundry/pseuds/CalsLaundry
Summary: "The live wire has set your body alight and you don’t for a second want it to turn off.He stands closer to you, until his hips press into yours, your body is flush with his. You wrap an arm around his waist and look up at him, certain you look like a deer in the headlights, but so happy to. He looks down with pure delight."
Relationships: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Reader
Comments: 16
Kudos: 196





	Sweet Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna be real, this exists because I love Alastor and I wanted to write him with a reader who reflects my experience as a trans man.

You adjust your bowtie and check your suspenders one last time. It’s a simple outfit for a 20s party; a white button up, a grey bowtie and a matching waist coat, topped off with a flat peaked cap and suspenders, though you are kind of cheating with jeans. It’s comfortable, and you couldn’t deny how masculine it felt. You check yourself out one last time, and at that moment, your friend knocks at the door. Margo looks perfectly the part, it is like she walked right out of The Great Gatsby, right down to the feather hairpiece. 

“M’lady,” you hold out your hand.

“Nope, still weird,” you laugh together and link arms instead as you leave. She’s excited, far more giddy than usual, and you notice there’s a fresh tinge to her red hair. You smile, it’s sheer delight for your friend. She adores a mutual friend of yours, Jack, and you know he feels the same, no matter how shy he is about it. Margo was his heart, but tonight, he’s going to show her. You can feel it in your bones. 

Also he told you.

Before you reach the door, right at the front pillars of the house, Margo stops and so do you. She takes a breath, she’s nervous about Jack, you’re certain. You know it’ll be fine, but you squeeze her hand. She squeezes back and turns to you. 

“Do I look okay?”

“Margo, you know you always look stunning!”

She lets out a tense breath and smiles. 

“You know you look handsome too! I could get used to that look, it works.”

You look away shyly, you were worried, but the reassurance helps. 

“We will find you a handsome devil.”

“Fingers crossed!”

A well dressed man meets you at the door. 

“Welcome, folks!”

He raises his glass in a fashion matching Jay Gatsby and you mimic him, though glassless. 

“Take these,” he hands you both a token, “to be exchanged at the bar. Gets you a cocktail and it’s all plain drinks after that.”

You thank him, and you and Margo venture over the threshold.   
Inside, the world changes. It’s a mixture in decor that somehow brings the best of both eras to the table. Streamers hang from the ceiling, twirling into ringlet curls and dusting the shoulders of anyone too tall to avoid them. Balloons bounce through the crowd, and at your third step in the door, you hear one pop. Every room is dotted with strings of lightbulbs and strings of LEDs along the corner where the ceiling meets the top of the walls. You wade through friends and strangers, all perfectly dressed in all manner of dress for the era. Feathers flounce as women walk by, and there’s a tap in every man’s shoe. It’s flamboyant and gorgeous and the shock of jazz through the speakers pulls the whole thing together. Margo spots Jack, and together, you approach him as he leans against a bar. The man behind it is dressed much the same as you are, but with an added moustache styled to perfection.

“Nice outfit!” He smiles and you offer one back.

“You too!” He hands you a cocktail menu that you share with Margo, though she barely looks, Jack is her focus. You can’t help but dote on them. You ask for two Grasshoppers, just from liking the name, and hand over your tokens. The barman offers another smile as he whips them up. You keep an eye to him for safety, and beside you, Jack hugs Margo, tells her how beautiful she looks, and she tells him in a strangely steady voice how handsome he is. You smile at them, it’s precious to be near, but you’re interrupted by the barman. 

“No one doting on you yet?” You laugh, and shake your head. 

“A shame,” he looks over you and flashes another smile-this one has a hint of cheekiness- as he puts your drinks on the bar, “gorgeous girl like yourself shouldn’t be alone for the night.” 

You stop dead and you thank every God there could be as someone else calls his attention. 

_ Stopping at one tonight then. _

You hand Margo her drink and wink as you head off through the crowd once more. The swing of the music lifts your mood, but before you can get lost in it, a friend approaches. The conversation is brief, but you notice a familiar moustache walk by you, and you turn. 

“Sorry, I’ve gotta uh, find Margo.” Your friend doesn’t ask but you see the question on their lips. 

As soon as you’ve parted ways, you let out a breath, but you catch it again when a hand lands on your shoulder. 

“There you are, someone just took over for me, and I wanted to introduce myself properly, I’m Andrew,” the barman holds out his hand and you shake it as you murmur your own name. You don’t think he even hears you.

“I just can’t get over how pretty you are, I-” your stomach is in knots but another hand lands on your shoulder. 

_ Bless you, Margo. _

But it is not her.

“My dear boy, is that a Grasshopper?” the stranger’s voice is lyrical and familiar, though you know you don’t know him. You open your mouth to answer, but instead...

“Uh, yeah, well spotted,” the barman answers, and your gut wrenches more. The stranger steps up beside you and you get a proper look at him. He’s smiling, it’s wide and confident. He has an air of perfect comfort here. You take in his profile; a straight thin nose, a pointed chin, a large forehead that’s covered with a sweep of auburn hair. He’s in a full suit, a dark grey with a black tie and a shockingly red shirt. His coat is black in this light, but you can see the vibrant red lining. As his arm drapes around your shoulders, you realise he’s wearing black leather gloves. 

“I wasn’t talking to you,” the stranger says, still smiling, though you can hear the layer of annoyance. 

“But, you said-”

“Yes, I said ‘my dear boy’, and asked about a drink, you don’t have a drink that I can see, why would you think I was talking to you?” His smile doesn’t falter. Andrew looks at you then back to the stranger, a smirk returns, though this one is more mocking.

“That’s a-” 

“Handsome man, you’re exactly right!” the stranger squeezes your shoulders in a half hug, “now, if you will excuse us,” he curves around you, stepping until he’s facing you, and his hand drags across the back of your shoulders. You realise now just how tall he is and he uses that height to block the barman completely from view.

“Your first?” You look at him properly, and you notice his glasses, round ones, are settled in front of Absinthe green eyes. You stare at him a moment without meaning, until he tilts his head a little as if to ask why you haven’t replied. 

“Oh, uh, sorry?”

He chuckles, “Your first Grasshopper, my dear.” 

The two words make you flush.

“Oh! Yes, it’s lovely though. You’ve tried it?”

“I haven’t had one in many years, though we are from the same place!” He laughs, and it’s infectious.

“And where would that be?”

“New Orleans, we do have all the finest things there,” he leans in close, enough for you to get drunk off of those eyes, “except you.”

You bite your lip and look away, but he grips your chin gently and makes you look back to him. His fingertips press a delicious jolt through you, and now you look up at him with barely parted lips.

“You are something else, my dear, incomparable. And to think that wretch thought he stood any kind of chance with such a gorgeous creature is laughable.” 

You’re utterly still. This strangers fingertips are still on your chin and you lick your lips before you speak again.

“I...I’m sorry, I missed your name.” 

His smile doesn’t change but there’s a different look in his eyes. His hand drops from your chin and you can’t say you’re not disappointed.

“Apologies, my dear! I was swept up in the moment! Alastor, a pleasure to meet you, sweetheart.” He holds out his hand and you shake it.

“Alastor, don’t get me wrong, I loved everything you said,” his eyes light up, and you step closer. He looks down at you and you love how much he towers over you, “But I couldn’t thank you without knowing your name first.” 

“And surely I can’t ask you to dance without knowing yours.” 

\-----

Alastor dances like he was born doing it. Your own skills are so so, a very bare understanding, but he controlled everything. It felt normal to let him lead you, but the thrill of him touching your waist was a whole different feeling. The first moment he touched you, it felt like a live wire swung against your skin, you expected the sizzle of it to pass, but it’s still there. You can’t count how many songs you’ve danced through, but you never want it to end. You find your eyes come back together time and time again, your stomach flips every time, and you find yourself dreading to think what would happen if he touched you with an ungloved hand. Margo catches your eye over his shoulder, and she gives you a suggestive look, one of support but also one that demands to know everything. As if he can hear your eyes lock with hers, he leans in until his lips brush against your ear;

“Let me get you another drink, my dear”.

His grip slips from your waist, but the hand you still have entwined with his remains for a moment. He curls his hand around yours until your fingers are folded over his, and with those green eyes still on yours, he presses his lips to the back of your hand. 

“Though, keep in mind,” he leans in again, “I don’t like to share”, and with that, he stalks off, hands behind his back, and smile ever present. Margo lunges toward you and grabs your hands.

“Tell me  _ everything _ ,” she’s giddy and you can’t help but notice her lipstick is a little smeared. 

“Okay, so the barman called me a girl basically-” 

“I’m sorry, he fuckin’  _ what? _ ”

“No no, hang on, Alastor just derailed it, as smooth as anything, and then he left me alone, and then I dunno, we ended up dancing and he’s just so charming and…” You end it on a sigh and Margo knows that look.

“Oh wow, you  _ like him  _ like him!” 

You wave your hands, embarrassed.

“What about you and Jack? Your lipstick is a little smeared there” You waggle your eyebrows and she giggles. She whispers small details; hand holding, a quick kiss, a more passionate one after they shared their feelings, and a date set for the next week. You buzz for them, and it isn’t long before Jack himself shows up, his arm goes around her waist and she looks up at him with a feeling you wish you had for someone.

Although, maybe you could have that…

Alastor crosses your mind and you scold yourself for thinking of him so highly. You’ve only just met him! 

But when he shows up beside Margo, your heart leaps and you realise you might have fallen a little harder than expected.

“Such a popular one you are!”

Alastor hands you a Grasshopper, you see his own in his hand too, and he clinks his glass with you before taking a sip.

“This is Margo and Jack, they’re two good friends of mine. Margo, Jack, this is Alastor.” 

Jack shakes his hand and Margo does the same, though Jack’s arm stays around Margo’s waist. They make small talk and you sip your drink as you watch them. You take the time to look at Alastor again, and when Margo and Jack turn to speak to each other for a moment, his eyes flick to you and you look away. The weight of his arm rests on your shoulder again, and he leans in close;

“Believe me, darling, if I wasn’t speaking, I’d be looking at you just the same.”

The live wire has set your body alight and you don’t for a second want it to turn off.

He stands closer to you, until his hips press into yours, your body is flush with his. You wrap an arm around his waist and look up at him, certain you look like a deer in the headlights, but so happy to. He looks down with pure delight.  Margo and Jack leave silently, you see them from the corner of your eye, though barely. Alastor drinks rather quickly, you realise. Though, Grasshoppers are easy to drink. But wait…

“How did you get two?”

“Hmm?” He looks back at you.

“How did you have two tokens?”

He laughs, “my dear, I’ve a trick up my sleeve for everything”. 

\----

The night drips away too quickly, and all too soon, party goers are heading out the door. You don’t want to.    
Margo and Jack had been off socialising, they left you with Alastor for the most part, and you didn’t mind one bit. You’ve ended up on a sofa, his arm across the back, another few cocktails in your hands, and he leans in close while you tell him the story of how you met Margo.   
He watches you carefully, like he’s soaking in every word. As your story ends, he places his now empty glass on the table. You take the final sip of yours, and he takes yours too and places it beside his own. He settles back beside you, arm across the back of the sofa again.

“Thank you for tonight, you’ve been lovely company,” you see him watching your lips. 

“As have you, my dear. I’m glad you haven’t dealt with any more trouble from that vile bartender, I hope he didn't make you question how undoubtedly handsome you look tonight”, he takes a quick look around the room, it’s noticeably quieter now. He looks back at you, and you turn toward him, your knee bumps against his, and you rest your head on his arm, you're too shy to make a response, but he simply smiles.

“Tired?”

“Very, but I don’t think I want to go home yet.”

“Unfortunately, you have to. I think I see your friends looking for you”.

You look up, and indeed, Margo and Jack are looking around.

“I guess that’s my cue then,” you smile at him, somewhat sadly, but he squeezes your cheek in response.

“Smile, my dear, this won’t be our last meeting!”

You do smile, and Alastor leans in closer, until you can feel a tingle in your nose and feel his breath on your lips, “you have been wonderful, darling”.

He nudges your nose with his, and his free hand comes up to hold your chin, much like it did a few hours ago. You don’t resist. You let yourself drink in those Absinthe eyes once more before his lips press to yours. The kiss is sweet but it’s passionate. You let your fingers sink into his hair, he nips at your bottom lip, cautious but adoring. Your breath is lost to him, but you smile against his lips. 

“I surely hope you’re right about this not being our last meeting, I’d love to do that again,” you whisper against his lips and you feel him smile. Together you stand and share one last peck, but Alastor leans down, presses a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw, before whispering;

“I’d crawl up from the depths of hell for another taste of you, my dear.” 

He holds your hand until you reach your friends, and when you do, he kisses your knuckles after bidding them and you “goodnight”. You watch him walk away, still utterly enthralled by him. 

“Babe, I  _ hope _ you got his number,” Margo breaks you from your haze.

“I...didn’t…” you put your hands over your face and chastise yourself internally. Best guy you’ve met in forever, and you forget to get his number. Margo shakes her head and pats your shoulder;

“Come on, let’s get you home”.

\----

A week later, you’re still kicking yourself. You’d tried to find him through the folks you knew at the party, but they don’t seem to know him. As you leave the shower, you wonder if perhaps it was not meant to be, and that was your one night with the perfect person for you. 

_ Don’t be dramatic. _

Your phone buzzes, it’s Margo.

“Ouija board sesh tonight”

You ponder for a moment if Alastor will be there.    
You’ve never messed with Ouija boards, they were a source of anxiety. You never wanted to mess with something you didn’t understand. But you felt daring today, and you wouldn’t admit that it is just as much in case Alastor is there. You get dressed with him in mind, and you put that little bit more effort in with that vain hope. You can’t understand what it is about him specifically. You only hoped you could get another chance to figure out why it is him.

In true theatrical fashion, your friends meet at the entrance to a graveyard. Margo and Jack are already there, along with three others that you vaguely know; Sarah, Elliot, and Alex. They’re giggling as you approach and they wave and continue. Apparently there were some antics in their group at that party too.

“We’re just waiting for a few more”, Sarah says, eyes glossed over as she daydreams. 

Your stomach flips.

_ Don’t assume it’s him and you won’t be disappointed if it’s not. _

But you do assume and you get excited and when footsteps approach, it’s a task not to turn too quickly. 

“Hey!” The voice is familiar, but you grimace; it’s not Alastor, it’s Andrew.

“Oh hey again, stranger!” He bumps his shoulder to yours and you force a smile. 

“Raise your hand if you’re not here yet,” Elliot, a statuesque gothic prince in appearance, murmurs as he hops off the wall and takes a sweeping look around the group, “good, onwards then”.

You follow the others and try to keep your distance from Andrew, but he tries to keep in step.

“So uh, did you enjoy the rest of the party the other night?”

“Yup”

You feel bad being so cold but you can’t trust him after the other night.

“Look about the-”

“Forget about it, I don’t want to tackle that right now”, you sneak a glance and he looks rather confused but nods. 

“Okay”.

The silence grows thick and awkward, and you focus on Elliot. He leads the group to a strange little area, a patch of untouched grass. It’s surrounded by tombs, seemingly unending. It’s a vast city of death, and as evening comes, the sky is like red soil above you, and you feel that you’re not treading Earth now. Every tomb is a coffin, and their place is mirrored about the dirt sky with a headstone. It’s a strange thought, you think, but it has its own comfort. It’s easier to understand Elliot’s choice of place when you find comfort in the resting souls. 

He sets out the board and looks around the group, Andrew is still close to you, too close for your liking, but you try to ignore him while Elliot goes over the details.

“So we all touch this,” he holds up the teardrop shaped piece of wood with a hole in it, “the planchette, and we ask a question. It moves around the board while we’re holding it, and that’s our answer. And we have to make sure to say ‘goodbye’, any questions?”

Everyone shakes their head and he smiles. 

“Alright, bunch up”.

As you all get settled and together move the planchette to spell “hello”. 

“Is anyone with us?” Elliot asks.

_ The only scary thing is how close Andrew is. _

The planchette doesn’t move, but you feel a shiver run down your spine.

_ It’s the chill of the wind. _

**Or is it?**

You hear the voice so distinctly but no one looks around or says a word. They’re all focused on the board. 

_ Huh, this thing must be messing with my imagination.  _

**You’re rather unwilling to accept this as real.**

This time, you flinch at the words. The others look at you.

“Can you tell us your name?” Sarah asks. 

**Oh, you know my name already.**

The planchette is still.

_ That voice is so familiar. _

You don’t draw attention to how much you’re hearing, but you hear the voice laugh in an eerily familiar way.

**These things are foolish. Do they really think the soul is so weak it needs a childish board to talk to the living?**

You get brave for a moment, and challenge the voice.

_ If you’re not weak, prove it to them. _

It laughs again.

**Of course, my dear.**

The planchette flies from the board into the grass, Elliot’s eyebrows raise, Sarah and Jack shriek, Margo is silent but terrified, Andrew grabs you, and you...laugh.

The group looks at you for your reaction but you just stare at it.

_ Point taken. _

**It was worth taking the suggestion to hear the reactions.**

The voice laughs again before dropping to a dull growl.

**Why is this boy clinging to you? Didn’t he learn his lesson before?**

You look at your arm, at where Andrew is still holding you after his fright. 

_ He doesn’t take a hint. _

**Help me help you then.**

You hear the smile. You hide your own as you reach for the planchette and put it back on the board. You look at everyone and encourage them to join; 

“Come on, guys, that was probably the wind or a dumb joke. Surely it takes more proof than that?”

They murmur in agreement, though you notice that Andrew is hesitant.   
They’re all silent, so you speak instead;

“If that really was you, then prove it. We need another sign.”

**Oh you’re delightful.**

You see it, faintly, the barest ghost of a hand on the planchette. Bright gleaming red pointed fingertips, that run into what looks like a black fingerless glove.

The planchette moves.

H.

O.

W.

You bite your tongue and look at the others.  
Elliot looks at you. Alex stutters out something but it’s not loud enough to hear.  
You take the chance.

“If you can push the planchette off the board, maybe you can push someone here?”

The voice laughs uproariously, and you bite your cheek to hide your smile.  
The planchette moves again.

A.

N.

D.

R.

E.

W.

Andrew’s face pales more with each letter, and he looks ready to be sick.  
And then he falls over and shrieks as he does.

“Nope! Stop the game, say ‘goodbye’, now, right now”. Andrew’s voice is shaky.

“Okay, but you have to touch it again”.

He visibly shivers as you spell “Goodbye” together.

The voice keeps going though the board was closed. 

**He should have known better.**

_ What do you mean? _

**I don’t share.**

As you leave the graveyard, Andrew tries to cling to you again and you pull your arm away.

**Shall I push him again, darling?**

The singsong tone is more familiar now but you can’t place it.

_ Nah, save it for later. _

They laugh and Andrew keeps his distance.

\-----

Elliot and Alex’s place is closest and they’re prepared for the group. Elliot puts his board away as everyone goes into the living room. It’s a cosy space that Alex decorated with drapes of fabric and fairy lights, they truly have incredibly taste. The room is intimate, romantic surely, and you take it all in as you sit down at the end of the couch. Andrew sits beside you. Margo offers you a look and you roll your eyes. You’re both irritated with him.

“So let’s never do that again,” Andrew still sounds terrified.

“I mean, it’s not our fault whatever it was didn’t like you. Maybe a different one would,” Alex shrugs.

**I doubt he’d realise it’s his own fault, he’s a little dim.**

You stifle a laugh. You should be panicking, you know that, but the voice doesn’t seem that intimidating. It seems homely. 

**To think that wretch thought he stood any kind of chance with such a gorgeous creature is laughable.**

You stop dead.

_ Say that again? _

You’re met with silence.  Your friends turn on a movie, but you can’t focus.

There was no one around when he said that.

\-----

Hours pass and the light is truly gone from the room. Elliot and Alex had gone to bed, but they left blankets and pillows for you and your friends. Margo and Jack are cosied up and snoring on the big couch. Sarah is curled up on a beanbag, muttering in her sleep. Andrew is draped over the side of the same couch you’re on, but you’re under a thick blanket, legs hanging off the couch, wide awake. You play the words over in your mind. That’s what Alastor had said to you. With silence finally taking the room, you try to remember how he sounded when he said it. 

**Still not figured me out, hmm?**

You flinch in surprise, but you don’t look around. You’d missed the voice in the few hours it had been gone.

_ I’ve decided that you have to be my imagination going a little wild. How else would you know what Alastor said to me? _

**Yet you still talk like you don’t believe that.**

You swallow and your mind goes blank. You had a theory, but it was ridiculous. It wasn’t possible.

_ You have to be my imagination.  _

“Or…”

An invisible finger presses to your lips, and at the same time, it’s like some bulk spreads your knees. You feel it, like there’s someone kneeling between them.  
And then, from underneath the blanket pops a head; a bright red shock of hair, fuzzy red ears and...antlers?  Underneath the red, you see grey skin, red eyes, and a too wide grin full of sharp teeth.   
There’s a lot to process, but you can’t scream. Or talk. Or breathe.   
Beyond the grey and the smile, he’s almost familiar.

“I would hope you didn’t forget me that quickly, my dear”.

“Shhh!”

“No one can hear me, only who I want hearing me,” he walks his fingers up your thigh and gives you a look you can’t mistake.

_ Alastor?! _

“In the flesh. Moreso than the first time. Though if that first look was more in your taste…”

_ No! _

He hums and you shy away.

_ I...quite like this version. Do I get cursed if I ask to touch your ears? _

He laughs.

“Anyone else wouldn’t survive the question, but you’re an exception”

You stroke his ears gently, and you hold back the giggles that bubble up in your throat.

  
“Now,” he stands, though not so fast that you pull your hand away, and he leans over you. He’s taller in this form. It’s a little intimidating, but in a way that stirs you,  “I recall telling you I don’t share, and I’m sick of that annoying man always getting to touch you. He needs to learn to take hints from demons, and he needs to stop playing with other people’s toys.” 

Alastor’s hand trails up the outside of your thigh, you feel the goosebumps rise under your jeans.

“I would be so grateful if you’d let me touch you, darling.” 

His thumb presses your inner thigh and you arch your back. Already he has you melting.

_ Please _ .

“Good boy, you’re spoiling me already.”

The button pops open on your jeans as he kisses you, and he makes quick work of removing them. You kick them away without a care. You let your fingers trail down his cheeks and you hold his jaw. He lets out something of a growl against your lips. His free hand rests on your throat for a moment before he squeezes just a little. You gasp against his lips, but a snore from across the room stills you. 

“Did you forget about your friends?"

You nod and bite back your laugh. He laughs against your lips, but his hand slips between your legs and suddenly, neither of you are laughing, though Alastor’s smile is still wide.

“Do try to keep quiet, darling, though, I wouldn’t mind  _ him,”  _ he nods towards Andrew, “seeing you in the hands of someone else”.

Alastor’s fingers stroke you slowly through your boxers and already, you struggle to keep quiet. You hide your face in his shoulder, but it only encourages him. He ups his pace, and you bite down on the fabric of his jacket to keep quiet. 

“I am certain you sound beautiful singing for me, I hope I can hear it properly one day,” he kisses you again, his hand dips into your boxers and the tip of his middle finger teases your entrance, and you nod, turning your kiss sloppy.  You sigh into his kiss as his finger slips into you, the length of it is only now apparent. 

“Even now, you sound delightful,” he slips a second finger into you and you gasp, “is it strange to say I’m jealous that my fingers get to know what it’s like inside you?”

He kisses along your jaw, ever more desperate, you roll your hips against him, you spread your legs wider, and the palm of his hand rubs against you. You let your head fall back against the sofa. The pleasure grows steadily, and you know Alastor feels you tense around him. He nips at your neck, easy at first, then harder and harder until you know he’s leaving a mark. His voice enters your head as he does;

**You’ll be even more perfect marked for me, marked as mine, don’t you think?**

You whisper out a soft and longing “yes” before you clamp your hand over your mouth. You feel Alastor’s grip on the couch tighten. It encourages you to tease a little.

_ I hope everyone can see I’m marked as yours and only yours. _

The pace of his fingers stutters, but he doesn’t respond. His lips leave your neck and he brings his nose against yours.

_ Seeing you above me is lovely, I know I’ll remember this when I’m alone, when I can enjoy some volume.  _

His pace picks up, his palms rubs against you just right, and you know that it won’t take much to send you over the edge. You force your eyes to focus on him, and you press a quick kiss against his lips. You bite down on your lip and twist your fingers back into his hair.

_ It’s a pity we’ve such company, I wish both of your hands were free; I know how much you want to pin me down and let loose. _

“Am I that obvious, darling?”

He smirks and you nod. 

“I have plenty ways to restrain you, my dear, I’m saving the best parts for when I have you alone”, there’s a small change to the pressure against you from his palm, and it forces you forward, your teeth dig into your lip hard enough that you taste copper, and you hide in his shoulder again.

“Let go for me, darling, I know you’re there,” you nod and like he broke a dam with those words, your orgasm washes through you, and you bite into his shoulder again to hide the noise. He offers his own small sigh as you finish, and he takes no time putting his fingers in his own mouth.

“Delicious, as I expected”.

With that same hand, he grips your chin again, you can smell yourself on his fingers, but you don’t have time to dwell on it; he pulls you in for another kiss and follows it with a kiss to your forehead.

“Get yourself covered, sweetheart. It won’t take a Ouija board to bring me back to you next time”.

_ Maybe a little more warning next time please. _

He laughs.

“Maybe, my dear, you’re fun to surprise”.

He helps you dress yourself, and covers you with the blanket, as if he’s tucking you in.

“I’ll see you again soon,” his knuckles brush over your cheek gently and he kisses you one last time, a long sweet one that stirs your heart, “go, get some rest. It won’t be long”.

With that, he’s gone, and you already begin to doze. 

The next thing you know, sunlight bursts into the room as someone opens the curtains.

“Good morning!” Alex’s singsong voice is paired with the smell of breakfast, and you stretch as you stand. You smile at the memory of your dream about Alastor as some kind of strange radio demon. Your friends wake and conversation begins.  You make your way to the bathroom. You splash water on your face, but as you pat your face dry, something catches your eye. A mark. You turn your head and trail a finger over the bite. Your heart speeds up and your grin widens.

**You didn’t really think it was a dream did you?**

_ I really hoped it wasn’t. _

Beside you in the mirror, like a blink, he appears, and he leans in to kiss the mark. 

“Not at all,” with a fingertip, he turns your chin to face him, “and next time, it won’t be just one”.

**Author's Note:**

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